


Daminette December: Flowers

by Saltyfang



Series: Daminette December [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt No Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28047102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saltyfang/pseuds/Saltyfang
Summary: Everyone knows Marinette loves flowers. From the scent to the picturesque beauty. Damian knows that Marinette doesn't know the meaning of flowers. Which is why he keeps giving her ones that say he's falling in love with her.Will she catch on before it's too late?
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Damian Wayne, Sabine Cheng & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Daminette December [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038626
Comments: 3
Kudos: 61





	Daminette December: Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I felt bad when I wrote this. That being said, enjoy!

Marinette loved flowers. Everyone dear to her knew that. Obviously, she couldn’t always get flowers but if you needed a gift for her, flowers were the _clear_ option. 

Damian knew this, so every year, he’d buy her flowers and a gift on top. It’d always be a practical one like a roll of fabric or a jacket and mittens because of how easily she got sick. Her response always made his day, whether she’d try and return it to him, which he would never allow. Or, she would turn into a tomato on the spot. It was assuring yet amusing to say the least when he would check their commemorative photos and she would always have an exhausted yet flustered expression. No matter how much she whined, those were his **favourite** photos.

Damian had always been _creative_ with the flowers he got. They had lovely scents, complemented her outfits or their colour signified something. Usually, he had gotten roses, _Marinette’s favourite by far,_ that were yellow with petals that were tinged red. They always meant ‘ _we’re friends but I think I’m falling in love with you_.’ That translated in _Damian speak_ was, ‘ _you’re a reliable acquaintance but now you’re more tolerable’._

If Marinette ever noticed his love, she didn’t comment. However, she _was_ oblivious. Much like he was to his own feelings.

Damian knew when love was unrequited. At least, he thought he did. Marinette’s infatuation with Adrien had never been healthy yet she never realised. Even when it broke her heart to see Adrien fawn over other people of the human species, she’d still chase after him. _Literally_. And it was always up to him to pick up the pieces. Damian did it, knowing it would scar his heart deeper than each wound ran and yet, he was willing to endure the pain if it meant she was happy and smiling.

That had fuelled his competitive nature with Adrien. You see, Damian and Adrien were bitter rivals. They didn’t like each other; hell, Damian had _destroyed_ him in an exhibition match when he first arrived. The day was still clear in his mind.

Marinette had sided with Adrien and whilst he couldn’t pretend that that didn’t hurt, he fought with such fervour, such ferocity, that he forgot the pain. _Momentarily_. For days, he ignored Marinette. He let his phone go to voicemail, didn’t read her texts, brushed past her at school. He couldn’t speak to her. He couldn’t look at her and he knew he was being selfish but he needed some _time_.

It didn’t help his heart when he saw her face- tears in her eyes and a face like a lost puppy. Although, he knew Adrien would deal with it. And deal with it he did. It shouldn’t have hurt to see Marinette in his arms, her eyes tinged red yet her cheeks rouge. It really shouldn’t have. After all, everyone knew that Marinette was _in love_ with Adrien. So, he really should have expected when they had their first kiss.

Or when they went on their first date.

Or when Marinette _forgot_ about him. Forgot was a harsh verb but in the last two months, he’d only seen her twice. She had been too preoccupied with Adrien to notice her relationship with him was falling apart. The late 3am conversations stopped abruptly. There were no more flowers or elaborate gifts. He stuck to the bare minimum because he wanted - _no_ \- he needed to be selfish.

He needed time away from them. From _her_. It wasn’t as if he didn’t feel happy for her, that was far from what had happened but... was it selfish to love knowing it would never be returned?

It was futile pondering over the ‘what ifs' but it was nice to let his mind wander. Longing never eased his predicament but it was a temporary relief. One where he didn’t have to lock eyes with them and pretend that his _**shoes**_ were more interesting. One where he wouldn’t have to walk in the opposite direction or take a longer route to avoid them. Or where he didn’t see the piteous glances and snide glares directed at him.

He wanted to feel content. _Joyous_ that Marinette found someone that made her happy.  
  
Which was why he needed to go back. Back to where everything made _sense_. Back to Gotham. He wasn’t important here anyway. Marinette wouldn’t miss him.

_That was the first lie he told himself._

Hands stuffed in pockets and head low, he walked to school, knowing it would be the last time he would see it. He had been hoping to avoid anyone he knew but alas, the goddess of luck was against him. He could see Marinette sprinting towards him and as tempted as he was to run away, it just wasn’t worth the effort. Especially not today. So instead, he pulled himself farther into his hoodie, obscuring his face. His attempt to blend into the background had been foiled by the meddling girl that was Marinette. And that annoyed him.

_This was the second lie he told himself_.

Marinette had stuck to him like glue. The entire day, she was at his side. And the reason was bluntly obvious as to why that was. Adrien had been busy. Marinette wouldn’t tell anyone where he’d gone but it was pretty clear that he wasn’t at school. Damian was happy to have Marinette back but he would have preferred it under different circumstances. He didn’t want to act as an _Adrien 2.0_. He wanted Marinette to hang out with him because she wanted to see him. Not because her boyfriend wasn’t in.

Her actions had soured his mood and yet his heart _**ached**_ for her. Today had probably meant nothing to her but it meant _the world_ to him. It was an amazing way to go back home, carrying sweet memories of your best friend with you.

The flight had been booked for tomorrow in the afternoon, giving him loads of time to pour his feelings onto a letter for her. He needed the closure from his first love. Sure, he’d dated around, trying to find anything strong enough to drown his feelings but they were never enough. Nothing ever was when she was around. 

Which is why he had ordered a large bouquet of yellow roses. Yellow roses tinged red at the tips of the petals. If he was going to write her a letter, he needed to go back. Back to when he first fell. Fell _completely_ in love.

The letter had come out better than he had expected. Short and precise yet he was oddly satisfied with how it turned out. The hardest part was how to get everything to Marinette without her responding. He already knew what her response would be. And he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want his heart to shatter. Not when it was already so broken. He knew that the best time to give it to her would be when she was asleep or working in the bakery which is why he went in the afternoon.

He loaded his luggage into a taxi-something so common that he would never have done before. Taking several deep breaths, he waited, watching his hand shake as he yanked open the door.

“Hey, Mrs Cheng.”

“Damian, what a lovely surprise. You must be here for Marinette?” A solemn nod was all the answer she needed. “Make your way upstairs. And call me Sabine.”

“Will do next time, Mrs Cheng.” He ran up the stairs, a small grin on his face as he knocked on her trapdoor. Giving it a few seconds, he knocked again before entering.

“I’ll just go.” He muttered, leaving the letter and bouquet on the stairwell. He turned on his heel, eyes shining as he tried desperately to compose himself. That was what Marinette had meant when she said that Adrien was _“busy"._ They were too busy making out to notice his presence. _Once again_. He should have been used to it.

So, why did he feel like shit when he heard Marinette call after him? Or when he hopped into the taxi, knowing that she couldn’t catch up to him? Why did he feel like _he_ was wrong? Like he was too clingy? He pushed her away. He grew too dependent on her being in his life. She could do whatever she wanted. She didn’t belong to him or anyone for that matter. If she was happy with Adrien, so be it. 

It was his fault for being too slow.

**_Hisfaulthisfaulthisfaulthisfault_**. 

The taxi was booked for the next two hours which gave him enough time to come to terms with everything. He’d finally see his family; he’d get to hold Titus and play with Alfred and feed Batcow. He’d be back on patrol for his vigilante duties and he would do a kick ass job at it. And there would be no more feelings. No more overwhelming emotions that had to be kept bottled up. No more feeling alone surrounded by people who didn’t _understand_ him. But most of all, no more Marinette. And it hurt to think like that.

Marinette was relentless. That much he knew. So, he was expecting her to try and find him. Which is why he booked the flight at the most obscure airport. He locked eyes with her, seeing her dart towards him, letter in hand. She had still found him and as he watched her run, he felt his chest constrict. And not in the good way. Functioning purely on adrenaline, he ran, pushing her out of the way of the approaching car. He heard the desperate squeal of the tyres. The sound of the sirens. Yet, the thing that was clearest to him was the _guttural scream_ that ripped through Marinette’s throat.

And in that moment, he wanted to hold her hand, stroke her head, whisper comforting words to her. Anything that would help ease her sorrow. But all he could offer her was his shaking hand as he rubbed his finger against her knuckles.

“I want,” he coughed, spitting out the thick substance onto the ground. “I want you to forget about me. I’ll only cause you pain.”

_That was his third and final lie before he was wheeled off into the back of an ambulance_.

It took **four hours** for him to be pronounced dead.

It took a _month_ for his funeral to happen.

It took _a year_ for Marinette to stop blaming herself for his death.

It took her **70 years** to forget about him.

Everyone dear to Marinette knew she hated flowers. The only ones she loved where the ones that Damian had given to her. And with her they remained, still upright as if someone had been trying to tell her that they were _there_.

There with her until she too died.


End file.
